


Squeezing Daisies

by Kaiju3



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Horror, M/M, Minor Violence, Only One Bed, Possessive Behavior, Rivalry, Survivor Guilt, Threats of Violence, Touching, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiju3/pseuds/Kaiju3
Summary: [Spoilers for Episode 133]Daisy's been acting different ever since Jonathan dragged her out of the coffin. He'd been in her sights before. But not like this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction takes place after Episode 133. This may or may not be a one shot, depending on how people like it. Enjoy!

Basira had asked Jonathan if the Daisy he’d saved from the coffin was really her. And unfortunately, the answer was yes and no.

Of course, she had meant to ask if this Daisy was an evil doppelganger or ghost or whatever manner of horror that stole faces. Jon didn’t believe she was. Just as he had chosen to trust her and Basira before the Unknowing, he had chosen to believe this was really Daisy Tonner.

But she wasn’t the same. She had lost her connection to the Hunt. Her legs were atrophied. And her energy, her drive, her independent urge to track down monsters and kill them was lost. She was not the same Daisy as the one thrown into the coffin so many months ago. But then again, was he the same Jon that fell unconscious during that event? It felt hypocritical to wonder.

There was one more notable difference in Daisy. Before, she had wanted barely anything to do with Jon. Sure, she would accompany him on request to track down an agent of the Stranger. But for the most part, she went off on her own. She’d disappear for days and come back with the same stoic face, murderous glint in her eye replenished.

Daisy was a loner. Now, she couldn’t stand to be alone.

It started off small. She would sit quietly in the corner of the room while Jon read statements. She would eat in the break room at the same time as him. There was even one time Jon left the restroom to find her leaning against the wall in the hallway.

(She’d said she was waiting on him to finish so she could use it. But honestly, weren’t there other ones nearby?)

Still, Jon didn’t mind it. The archive was never a noisy place, but there was an unnerving quiet to it now. The lack of footsteps on the tile, of tea hissing to be made, of microwaves reheating leftovers from one of the assistants who actually went out to eat. Jonathan Sims had never truly understood until now the phrase “deafening silence”.

(“Even the coffin wasn’t this quiet”, he caught himself murmuring one time)

So he didn’t mind Daisy being there. And in true Sims fashion, while he was focused on the details of a vague, nonsensical horror, he failed to notice what was happening right in front of his face.

He didn’t catch Daisy calling him “Jon” now instead of the curt “Sims”.

He didn’t catch her watching him, listening intently as he read statements.

And he certainly didn’t catch her touching him more. A hand on his arm during conversation. Fingers brushing as she handed him coffee. Shoulders bumping as they passed in a hallway certainly big enough for two people. Even if Jon had noticed these little changes, all he would have thought was how they were less violent. Physical interaction with Daisy was usually a hand to his throat or a push to the side.

But no, Jon was never one to pick up on subtle social cues. Which is why it was even more of a shock for Jon when Daisy came with a request.

“I want to sleep in your room.”

Jon spit out his tea.

Daisy was already there, pulling tissues and dabbing off the stains on the statement Jon was looking at while he coughed uncontrollably. She leaned against his bent back for support (even though there was a perfectly good desk right there).

After a few moments when Jon caught his breath and the tea was dabbed up, Jon looked at her.

“Wh-what?”

Daisy threw the tissues away. “You’ve been kidnapped three times. I want to make sure there’s not a fourth.”

“And you want to do that by…sleeping in my room?”

“Yes.”

“Daisy, I appreciate the concern, but how—”

“Keeping watch,” She said. “If some freak sneaks in, I can at least slow them down.”

Jon was now acutely aware of the hand on his shoulder and the eyes that gazed directly into his own. He wasn’t ashamed to admit Daisy intimidated him in the past. But this was different. Before, her eyes were filled with cold intent, like a wolf who saw you as their next meal. Now, it was intense, but different. Warm intent? Was that a thing?

“Jon.”

“Uhm, sorry.” Jon coughed again. “Are you…sure? The rooms are usually locked tight. Not even Jane Prentiss could get in.”

“I’m sure. I can’t afford to lose you.”

Wait, wha—

“We can’t afford to lose the Archivist.” Daisy corrected. “I’m still not clear what’s going on, but I know you’re the only one who can make sense of it.”

Jon’s mind raced for another excuse, but under Daisy’s gaze all he could blurt out was, “There’s only one bed!”

“I’ll make do.” Daisy replied.

There was a knock on the door frame. Daisy stood up, pressing her hand down on Jon’s shoulder. Jon winced.

“Daisy,” Basira said. “It’s time for your exercises.”

“Coming,” Daisy said. She limped slowly to the door, letting her fingertips stay on Jon until she switched to the desk for support, then the wall. By the time she left the office, Jon was still staring, mouth agape.

His gaze crept to the clock on his wall.

\---

He had tried to wait her out. It wasn’t unusual for Jon to stay up late recording statements and organizing the archive. But even at 2am she was there, standing, waiting, either reading a book or listening to him read a statement.

It was her hand on his shoulder that shook him awake.

“Oh! Oh, uh—”

“You nodded off,” Daisy said.

“I—I’m fine, I just need to—”

“What you need to do,” She cut him off like a knife through paper, “is rest.”

She stood up and pulled at his arm. Had it been a year ago, she would have just yanked him to his feet. But now, she waited on him.

“Really, Daisy, I’m fine.” Jon said, though he stood nonetheless. “I still have a lot of work to do and—”

“—it can be done in the morning.” Daisy finished. “Now come on.”

She led him out of his office, still holding on to his arm. Part of Jon wanted to shake her off, but another part felt like that would hurt her feelings. Then that same part wondered why he would think that. This was Daisy Tonner, was it even possible to hurt her feelings? And why would taking her hand off his arm do that? And why was he just going along with her, so she could be in the same room as he slept, and why was his heart beating faster now despite how tired he was?

He was locked in this internal narrative, asking questions even his powers might not be able to find answers too, when they arrived at his room. Silently, Jon cursed the archives for being so small.

Daisy finally let him go as he walked inside. It was a tight, undecorated room, meant more for a late night’s rest than an actual living area. But as Daisy closed the door behind them, Jon realized just how small it was. There was barely any empty space between her, Jon, and the bed.

Jon swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel like he was back underground.

“Well,” Jon started, not sure what to say. “I’ll just, uh…go to bed then. And where are you going to rest?”

Daisy looked around as if they hadn’t occurred to her. “I suppose I’ll rest on the floor.”

“What?”

“It’s fine. I’ve kept watch on worse.”

He didn’t doubt that. “Daisy, you’re not just going to lay on the ground. Maybe we can look around, see if there’s an extra blanket or pillow in storage.”

“Jon, it’s fine. I’m not going to be sleeping much anyway.”

He gazed at her. Her lids were half closed and dark bags hung under her eyes. He recognized the effects of sleep deprivation, as well as the stubborn denial that came with it. He’d seen it in the mirror many times before. Daisy wasn’t going to sleep, but he doubted it was because she wanted to keep watch.

His chest clenched up as he sighed. He was going to say something stupid next.

“Would you…like to rest on my bed?”

Daisy’s eyes snapped open. Jon realized this might have been the first time he’d ever startled her.

“What?”

“It’s a twin, but there’s room.” Jon continued, now not daring to look her in the eye. “And it’s better than the cold floor. You could sit on the edge. But to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure if I could sleep with you just sitting like that all night, so you could also just share it with me." 

He stopped, mind blank after he heard what he just said. He crept his gaze back toward Daisy who stared back at him with wide eyes. There was a confused but intent look in them. Like a lion who had snuck into a field, only to find a deer had already been laid out on a dish.

For a moment, Jon wondered why he kept comparing Daisy to an animal about to eat him.

Her eyelids relaxed slightly as she shrugged. “Okay.”

Jon jerked back. “What?”

“I said okay. Get in.”

“Are—really?”

“Jon, don’t make it weird.” 

He couldn’t really say anything. He’d suggested it after all.

Taking off his shoes, Jon climbed into bed and scooted to the side nearest the wall. After Daisy shut off the light, he didn’t dare look behind him as she slid into bed as well.

The bed frame was simple and the blanket thin, more at home in a hospital than a bedroom. It was also narrower than Jon would have liked, meaning even on their sides the two had no choice but to have their backs touching. ‘Should I have said anything?’ Jon wondered. Was this weird? Was he making whatever connection they had to each other weird?

Jon lay in silence while his thoughts screamed. He wanted to just close his eyes and skip to tomorrow. He wanted to keep his already racing mind from noticing how warm Daisy felt under the covers with him. And he certainly wanted to keep from thinking about how he hadn’t slept in the same bed with someone since college.

Instead he lay wide awake, staring at nothing and thinking about everything.

“Jon.”

Her voice startled him. She was whispering for some reason.

“Y-yes?” He whispered back.

“I have nightmares about that place.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah.” He replied. “Me too.”

“When I’m lying in the dark…alone…I’m back there. And I can…I can _feel_ it pressing down on me. I can’t breathe. I can’t scream. All I can do is feel my mouth fill with dirt and mud.”

Jon remembered it all too well. His throat went dry at the thought of it.

“Sometimes I wonder…if I’m dreaming right now. If I fell asleep and then I’ll wake up back there, the stone crushing my chest, my fingers bleeding from the crawl.”

Her voice wavered. Jon wanted to say something to her. But his mouth was so dry, even if he could find the words, he wasn’t sure he could speak them.

“Jon?”

“Yes?” He squawked.

“You’re here, right? We’re really here?”

Jon swallowed. “Yeah. I’m here. We’re both here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Silence. Maybe that was all he needed to say? Resting his head against the pillow he also shared with Daisy, he closed his eyes.

Then Daisy shifted on her side and his eyes shot back open. His heart raced as Alice “Daisy” Tonner of all the people in the world rested on her left side and wrapped her arm around him. He could feel her chest against his back, her head against his hair, her breath against his neck.

“Is this alright?” She asked.

“Y-yeah,” Jon stammered before he could think. 

Daisy was spooning him. She was very warm and she was very, very much spooning him. 

“Good.” She whispered, snuggling against him.

Jon laid there, breathing slow and not wanting to move an inch. He couldn’t help but notice how firm Daisy’s arm was as it held him tight. At one point in time, that arm had threatened to snap his neck. Now, it was hugging him.

And as Jon slowly allowed himself to relax and let his guard down, he also allowed himself to admit he might actually enjoy it.

It wasn’t long before Daisy’s breath became softer. He felt the rise and fall of her chest against his back and realized she had actually fallen asleep.

Once again, he was squeezed in the dark. But now he was squeezed by something soft and warm.

And before long, he fell asleep as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Melanie felt Daisy watching her. 

She didn’t think she was being followed. Part of Melanie knew that if Daisy wanted to stalk her, she would never know until it was too late. Even with Daisy’s legs the way they were, she’d adapt. Perhaps that was part of why the two never really became closer. Daisy was all about sneaking around, winning by catching the other off guard. Melanie was far more up front about it.

And Melanie also knew when she was being watched. Maybe it was from years of ghost-hunting and having to sense when something was invisible but there. Maybe it was from working for an Institute created by the god-awful god of watching. Maybe it was just paranoia. 

Whatever the case, Melanie knew she was being watched. But not like prey. 

They must’ve told her, Melanie thought. If not about the bullet, at least about the time she slaughtered a dozen monsters made of meat.

Did Basira go into the details? About how she tore through soft flesh and hard bone like wet paper? About how she charged at the Boneturner himself and made him cry out in fear? About how she looked more natural covered in the blood of her enemies than the clothes she bought from H&M?

Whatever she was told, Daisy thought she was a threat. So that’s why Melanie felt her gaze whenever they passed in the halls or sat in the break room. And that’s why Daisy’s eyes never left her when she was near Jon.

She didn’t want to be in the same room as him. But the fact that they were all living there and vaguely aligned to the same purpose meant they would need to interact. So that’s how she found herself walking into Jon’s office one afternoon with a file in her hands.

“I have the documents you asked for,” Melanie said with an ever-present disdain.

She stopped at the door. She’d seen all manner of strange things before, but what she saw now was a new kind of strange.

Jon was at his desk sorting through even more documents and tapes. And Daisy was standing behind him with her arms resting on his shoulders. The two looked up at her but Daisy didn’t move from her casual embrace.

“A-ah, yes,” Jon stammered, his voice a professional mask failing to hide his fear. How else would you talk to a work colleague who’d stabbed you multiple times? “Just leave them on my desk. Thank you.”

“Sure,” Melanie said, her voice trailing. She was well aware Daisy watched every step she took to the desk, the detective’s eyes flicking to her wrist as she dropped the folder in front of Jon. There was far more intensity in her stare this time, still veiled behind that look of calm. It was almost like a warning. 

Melanie was about to leave. But something inside her would rather be dead than intimidated.

“Daisy, could I talk to you real quick?” Melanie said. “Outside?”

“Sure.” Daisy shrugged. Like she wasn’t tensed and ready to pounce.

Jon looked between the two of them, confusion and concern on his face. He was never one for hiding how he felt, but he also wasn’t one to speak up as the two women left the room.

They didn’t walk far from Jon’s office before Melanie turned to Daisy.

“Why are you watching me?” Melanie asked.

The two glared. Though Daisy held a good few inches over Melanie in terms of height, neither woman really looked down on the other. They both knew what they had been capable of before.

“Do you need to ask?” Daisy replied.

“Well quit it!”

“No.”

“Really?!” Melanie scoffed. “As if there weren’t enough things watching me. Hell, Jon might be watching this conversation right now.”

“He isn’t." 

“And how would you know?" 

“Because he’d think it’s wrong.”

“Oh, like you know Jon!”

“Better than you." 

She could hear the blood in her temples, pulsing like boiling lava. She sensed it in Daisy too. A flare of the nostrils. A calm breath. A twitch of her fingers.

Melanie’s rage was hot. Daisy’s was cold as the ice that tore your skin from a touch.

Melanie clenched her jaw. “Why are you so close to him now?”

“You mean besides him crawling into hell and back to save me?” Daisy said. Sarcasm didn’t fit her. “That’s none of your business.”

“So what, now you’re his guard dog? You know Elias isn’t here anymore. He isn’t chaining you to him.”

“Why do you care?” Daisy asked. It infuriated Melanie how calm she was. It sounded like a genuine question.

“Just stop looking at my throat like you’re going to tear it out.” Melanie finally replied. “We both know neither of us want that fight.”

“Speak for yourself." 

“What did you say, bitch?”

The words left her mouth before she could think. But as they lingered in the air like a drawn out note, her blood sang in tune.

The corner of Daisy’s mouth twitched. She held a hand out to the nearby wall and leaned forward.

“I’ve heard about what you did to him. What you said to him. And if you touch Jon again—”

“—oh, I think you’re touching him enough for the both of us—”

“—I’ll take you out. And I promise you, it won’t be a fight.”

They glared at each other with such an intensity that if a fly had flown between them, it would have burst into flames. They were waiting for an excuse. A hole in the dam that would unleash the floodgates of their wrath.

But after the moment passed, Melanie turned away. 

“I’d rethink getting close to him. People die around Jon.”

“Funny,” Daisy replied. “They used to say the same about me.”

With that, Daisy turned and began walking back down the hall. Despite how she held herself, she still needed the wall for support. On anyone other than her, it would have looked pathetic. 

But Melanie knew she was anything but.

\---

Jon looked up from his work as Daisy walked back into his office. He hadn’t been able to get much done. Half his thoughts kept drifting to whatever she and Melanie might be talking about. The other half was stamping down the temptation to look.

The door was there. It would always be there. But he wouldn’t open it to spy on Daisy.

“How did it go?” He asked instead.

Daisy shrugged. “She didn’t like me watching her.”

“Have you?”

Daisy made her way back to Jon’s side of the room and rested her arms around his shoulders. She could feel Jon tense.

It wasn’t out of fear. She had held him in fear before, felt his breath clench up as she pressed a knife to his neck, smelled the sweat and adrenaline permeate off of him like the most intoxicating incense.

But that was when she was trying to kill him. Now he was tense, but for something much more mundane. He was awkward.

“Yes,” Daisy replied.

“Ah,” Jon said. “May I ask why?”

Her hand moved to his collar. He sat stock still as she unbuttoned his top buttons, not saying anything. She saw his Adam’s Apple bob, heard his breath grow faint. Now there was fear.

Her fingers stopped halfway down and she pulled his shirt aside to reveal his chest. Though his skin was marred with dozens of small scars, her fingers traced their way to one in particular. He twitched as her fingertips brushed the scar, larger and more jagged than the others. The place where Melanie had stabbed him with a scalpel.

(It wasn’t his only scalpel wound, Jon realized.)

“A-ah,” Jon said. “Well, I assure you, I don’t believe Melanie has any intentions to kill me anymore. I think.”

“You have more scars than me.”

The statement felt heavy in the air. Jon turned and looked at her. 

“Really?”

“Don’t be impressed. It means you didn’t dodge.”

“Ah,” Jon deflated.

“But still. You’ve been hurt a lot. Burns. Worms. Stabbed by friends and enemies.”

“Don’t forget losing two ribs,” Jon murmured.

“A lot of things out there want to hurt you, Jon.”

He realized she was still touching him. She’d been doing that all day really, but not like this. Her hand was against his bare chest, feeling each scar, sending shivers down every part of his body. Was this strange after last night? Honestly, what wasn’t strange anymore?

 “You used to be one of them,” Jon chuckled weakly. “You told me yourself.”

“I know.”

She leaned forward and Jon could see her eyes. He met her gaze and didn’t dare turn away.

He’d seen that look in her eye before. The intense, dilated stare. There wasn’t the murder that was there before when his life was in her hands. There was only the possession. The hunter’s ownership of what was caught in their trap.

Daisy dug her nails into his chest. He winced.

“But I won’t let anything else hurt you, Jon.”

For some reason, he envisioned a cultist pulling a sacrifice’s heart from their chest. Holding it clasped in their bare hands. But this wouldn’t be an offering. They’d never let the heart leave their grasp.

“Uhm, uh, th-thank you,” Was all Jon could stammer out.

Daisy softened. She pulled her nails back and left her hand resting on him. 

“No problem.”

Jonathan swallowed. His shirt was half undone, but the way Daisy leaned on him precluded buttoning it back up. His hands shook slightly as he went back to his work. 

There were many things that had laid claim to Jonathan Sims. At least Daisy Tonner was upfront about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue this story after the positive feedback. Please comment and let me know how you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me, folks.

It was kind of adorable messing with Jon.

When it came to the Archivist, Daisy had her reasons for her change of heart. After all, she’d heard what he’d done to rescue her. How he tried (and somehow failed) to cut off his own finger to create an anchor, whatever that meant. How he had two ribs pulled out of him instead, and now kept one at his desk like a foreboding paperweight. And how he climbed into the coffin by himself, unsure if he’d ever get out, without telling anyone like the moron he was. 

And yet that moron went through literal hell to save her. So she was going to protect him.

Of course, she was barely fooling herself with the idea this was about repaying a debt. There was no taking back what she said their first night sleeping together. And after her world was just darkness and stone and being crushed by the literal weight of the world for so long…touching him brought her back to reality. She needed to feel he was real. It kept her anchored.

But she still enjoyed how much he squirmed at her touch. He’d get used to her arms around his shoulders, only to shiver as she ran her nails across his neck. Each day she’d try something different, reach a little further, linger a little longer. At the point where his breath caught in his throat and sweat beaded at his collar, she’d smile and stop.

“Am I distracting you?” She whispered once in his ear.

He had tried to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful cough. He swallowed and said, “A little, yes.”

“I can stop.” She said.

She lifted her arms and Jon’s hand shot to her wrist. Daisy smirked and draped herself around him again.

The irony of the situation was that Jonathan Sims was just as touch-starved as she was. It was something that made her realize just how similar they were. Never getting close, never dropping their guard. Only focused on chasing something and not relenting until it was found. She’d seen it in his eyes when he was chasing another of Gertrude’s paper trails or uncovering some monster behind the mystery. That thrill of the hunt. He just didn’t need to taste the blood on his teeth like she did. 

It was something she wondered about as she stood in the archives, watching Jon sort through file cabinets, looking for some connection he had just remembered. It was kinda cute watching him like this. He was like a meerkat, bobbing up and down, eyes narrowed in focus. Daisy wasn’t sure why she felt like asking this, but she did.

“Jon? Have you ever killed someone?”

Jon stopped. He was facing away from her with a tape in his hand. But the way he gripped it now made Daisy believe he was going to crush right then and there. After a moment, he instead took a breath and placed it down gently. 

“Well, I suppose it depends on what you mean,” He said. “We did blow up a building full of skinless people, though you’d have to convince me any of them were still alive.”

“I don’t mean what happened then. I mean by yourself.”

“Hmm…”

Jon was stalling. He was making a show of scrunching his face up in thought as he opened another cabinet drawer. But Daisy had traced his frame with her hands far too many times to not see when he was tense. Was he thinking of lying to her?

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you?”

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

He thumbed the folders without reading them. “That’s a personal question, Daisy.”

“You’ve asked me before,” Daisy countered. “Remember how excited you got when I told you vampires were real?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You killed monsters.”

Daisy quirked an eyebrow. “So does that mean you killed people?”

He went quiet. Too late, Jonathan realized he had fallen into a trap. The creak of the cabinet’s rusty hinges was the only sound in the room as he closed the drawer and refused to look Daisy’s way.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jonathan murmured.

Daisy frowned. “What?”

“I said,” Jonathan repeated, this time looking over his shoulder, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Daisy was surprised how hurt she felt. No, more than that. How angry that made her.

“Are you serious?” Daisy said.

“It’s not something I want to share.” 

“Jon, we share a bed.”

“So does that mean we share everything now?!”

Jonathan whipped around to Daisy. If she hadn’t already been leaning against the wall, she might have taken a step back. It wasn’t like Jon to step up to someone, especially her.

His hair was starting to raise, a side effect of his powers. She could see the anger in his eyes, along with a flicker like tv static that bubbled in his iris. 

“Is that what you want, Daisy?” Jonathan continued, his voice slowly raising from a threatening whisper until it echoed off the walls. “Share every dark secret with each other? Would you like me to ask about the first time you killed a man? Or maybe a woman! I could compel every detail out of you if that’s what you want from me!”

But Daisy didn’t flinch. She stared into his monstrous eyes like she did so many times before. 

Then, without a word, she pulled a tape from her pocket and handed it to him.

Jonathan blinked. His eyes returned to normal. He looked at the tape in his hand in confusion.

“Daisy? What is--”

“That’s it.” Daisy said. “That’s the first time I killed a man.”

Jon looked up in mortified shock. “What? When was this recorded?”

“When I first met Elias.” Daisy answered. “He pulled it out of my head like he was reading a book. Recited my deepest secret in perfect detail right in front of me. No one knew about it, Jon. Not even Basira.”

Jon looked like he’d been punched in the gut. He dropped the tape on a cabinet like it’d grown hot and turned to Daisy with the most pitiful look.

“Daisy, I’m…I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Daisy said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t force you to share something you don’t want to.”

The words burned on her tongue, but they were true. She was so used to chasing what she wanted, she wasn’t used to worrying about who she hurt in the end. Maybe that was the feeling that boiled in her gut. It wasn’t like she was hurt Jonathan didn’t trust her or anything. That couldn’t be it.

She turned and began walking out of the room, feeling the wall along the way. She spoke without looking back at those eyes filled with a pity she didn’t need. 

“Listen to it if you want. I don’t care.”

Maybe she needed a break. She could find Basira and continue her physical therapy. Or maybe just be alone for a bit, see how long she could last before the flashbacks came b—

“Gerard Keay.”

Daisy stopped at the doorway. “What was that?”

“Gerry.” Jon corrected himself. “He…he wanted his friends to call him Gerry.”

Now there was a loaded sentence. Daisy turned and stood there, waiting quietly as Jon summoned up the words. 

“His mother was a witch.” Jon continued. “In every sense of the word. She dragged him into all this nonsense from the day he was born. And when he was free of her, Gertrude used him instead. She exploited him until the day he died, and even then, she trapped his spirit in a book made of skin. He was being used as a…as a monster textbook by Trevor and Julia when I found him.”

He hadn’t looked Daisy in the eyes as he spoke. But in this next moment, he looked up.

“He wanted me to kill him. You have to believe me. And…and I almost didn’t! Not because I was scared! Because just like Gertrude, I thought he was too valuable to lose. Even when he told me his entire existence hurt being in that book.”

Daisy took a step forward. “Jon.”

“But I did it!” Jonathan hissed as tears fell from his eyes. “I burned his page and…and every bit of me hurt doing it. But I did it!”

Another step. “Jon.”

He could barely choke out the words. “I killed Gerry! And you know what? I might as well have killed Sasha too! And Tim! And Leitner! And…and…”

“Jon!”

Jon collapsed. Daisy fell right next to him and grabbed him in her arms, hugging him close as he wept. It was not a pretty sight. In a few moments, Jon was a shaking mess of tears and snot and spittle, all pressed against Daisy’s chest. 

“It’s okay.” Daisy whispered as she rubbed his back. “You’re okay.”

“I’m—” Jon sobbed.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” He cried out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’re okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

That was it. That was all she could say.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other on the floor of a dusty archive. Each time Jonathan tried to blame himself for another mistake, Daisy would shush him down. And so it was until Jonathan’s throat was raw and his cheeks stained.

Daisy wasn’t…good, at emotions. The whole time she sat there, she wasn’t sure what to say to make this better. Was there something to say at all? Maybe Basira or Martin would know. Not Daisy. Not her.

“Daisy.”

Jon coughed, his voice still shaky with a held back sob. After he wiped his wet face on his sleeve, he rested his forehead against Daisy’s cheek.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Daisy wasn’t sure how to react. She hadn’t really done anything. She’d just hugged him and said the same thing over and over. 

Almost out of habit now, her hand found its way to his head. As her fingers gently massaged through his hair, Jon wrapped his arms around Daisy and hugged her tighter. For once in her life, Daisy’s cheeks flushed red.

Maybe she was just fine reminding Jon she was here. Maybe that was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Even though his job routinely involved investigating the paranormal and the monstrous, Martin Blackwood was still startled when he closed the break room fridge to see Daisy had appeared right next to him.

He wasn’t proud to say he had jumped back, and he certainly wouldn’t admit he had yipped a little. But as Daisy Tonner stared blankly at the red that formed on Martin’s cheeks, Martin scrunched up his face in a glare.

“Daisy,” Martin greeted.

“Martin,” Daisy replied, arms crossed.

“Do you need something from the fridge?”

“No.”

“Okay then,” Martin said as he stepped aside.

“Just from you.”

Oh joy. Martin stopped where he stood and turned back to his colleague. He realized this was the first time they’d actually spoken after Daisy came back from the brink. Martin might have thought it was rude of him if he wasn’t already making a habit of avoiding everyone. Also, it wasn’t like he and Daisy ever talked much to begin with.

“What do you need?” Martin asked, trying to mask his irritation behind a veil of professional politeness. Years of retail had done him some good apparently.

“I want to know why you’re avoiding Jon.”

Martin flinched. He expected Daisy to get right to the point. He just didn’t expect her to ask something like that.

“Why do you care?” He said, dropping his polite tone.

“It’s making Jon sad.”

She said it in the same level tone with the same level gaze. For some reason, that irritated Martin more than the response itself.

“And when did you start caring about how Jon felt?” Martin grimaced. “What, did you develop a bit of empathy between all the times you threatened to shoot him?”

“He saved my life,” She said.

“Jon saved the whole bloody world!” Martin exploded. “Sure, you all got to go off and save the day with him while I was back here dealing with Elias. But if it wasn’t for Jon risking his life alone, we would’ve never known until it was too late! So don’t be getting off on saying I’m the bad guy for hurting Jon’s feelings when you never gave a damn about him ‘til now!”

Before, Martin would have never dared to talk to Daisy like this. But the perfect combination of time and subject matter brought out an anger in him he’d been suppressing for a long while. And while his voice grew louder and more flustered, Daisy’s stare kept the same half-lidded gaze. It was infuriating.

Martin took a breath, brushed off his chest, and stepped aside. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get to.”

He was halfway to the door when he heard her speak. The way her tone dropped made Martin realize she had been speaking in her own polite voice the whole time. Now that pretense was gone.

“I don’t give a damn about your feelings, Blackwood.”

He turned around. “Excuse me?”

Daisy uncrossed her arms and began walking toward him. She had to step around the tables and lean on them, giving her walk a sloping path like a snake slithering toward a mouse. The intensity in her eyes kept him rooted where he stood.

“Jon won’t stop sighing whenever he drinks tea,” She spoke. “He keeps his door open ‘just in case’. And every time he hears footsteps, he perks up like a dog. It doesn’t take a detective to realize what’s going on in his head.”

She was in front of him now, and the difference in their heights was never more clear. Daisy towered over Martin.

“How…” Martin stumbled. “How do you know this?”

Daisy smirked. She honest-to-god smirked. To Martin, it was like the Mona Lisa had just flipped him off.

He was too startled by this to react to her placing her hand on his shoulder. Even through his vest, he could feel her nails pressing into his skin. As he winced, Daisy leaned down until her lips were at his ear.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jon,” Daisy whispered. “And I promised to protect him. Which means I’m going to take care of anything that hurts him. And that includes people who say they care, then avoid him when he needs people the most.”

Martin wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl every profanity he knew at her and maybe make some up along the way. A part of him even wanted to reach for the pistol at Daisy’s hip and threaten her the same way she threatened Jon. 

But the way she spoke and the way she stood told him if he made a move, he might not live to regret it.

“Whatever you’re doing, that’s your business,” She continued. “But as soon as it affects Jon, it becomes my business. So figure it out.”

Martin’s jaw was so tight, he thought his teeth might shatter from the pressure.

“Why?” He gritted.

Daisy tightened her grip. “Because Jon is mine.” 

Martin’s fist flew on its own, hitting Daisy in the cheek. She rolled with it, grabbed his arm, and slammed him against a table. Pain shot up Martin’s arm and he howled. It all happened in an instant.

“Don’t you ever talk about him like that!” Martin roared, his cheek pressed against the plastic.

“You made the wrong move.”

“Let me go, you—"

“Oh! Shit!”

Martin and Daisy looked up. Melanie was standing at the doorway, an empty mug in her hand. Her fingers tightened around the handle.

Daisy let Martin go. Martin shot back up, stepping away from her and rubbing at his arm.

Melanie glared at Daisy. “What just happened?”

“Martin punched me.” Daisy said.

“Martin? Punched you? You expect me to believe—”

“I did!” Martin spat.

Melanie looked at him in confusion. Something in Martin’s glare told her he wasn’t bluffing.

“Why?!” Melanie spouted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Martin said. He pushed past Melanie and out of the room. In the moment it took Melanie to look out into the hall, he had already disappeared.

Melanie turned back to the break room to see Daisy walking to the doorway as well. Melanie put her arm out to stop her.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Melanie snarled.

“Martin didn’t like something I said,” Daisy answered before staring down at Melanie. “He thought it would be a good idea to attack me.”

There was an unspoken question in their glares. While Daisy didn’t shift her gaze, she kept note of the mug in Melanie’s hand. Melanie held it with a white-knuckled grip.

And then, Melanie dropped her arm. Daisy nodded and walked past her, making her way down the hall. She was a few feet away when Melanie stepped out.

“If you touch Martin again,” Melanie started, “I’ll tell Jon. And you know how he’ll react.”

Daisy stopped. Though Melanie could only see her back, she could only imagine the ways Daisy’s normally calm face was twisting. She waited, watching to see if Daisy would turn. But a moment later, Daisy kept walking. 

Melanie smirked and walked back into the break room. At this point, it didn’t bother her there was suddenly a door where there once wasn’t. Nor was she frightened by the woman in a red suit who stood where she once didn’t.

“Why is everyone in the archives so mean?” Helen asked.

“You get used to it,” Melanie sighed as she began making tea. “Do you want some? Or…do you even drink still?”

“I’m able to drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt Martin's feelings in a fanfiction! Crucify me in the comments below!


	5. Chapter 5

Nowadays, Jonathan had very strict rules for walking about London. He didn’t take the tram. He never opened any door if he didn’t know where it went. And if any strange man in an alleyway asked him for a cigarette, Jon ran like hell.

Of course, that last one hadn’t happened yet. But it wasn’t a bad rule to have.

Despite the need for his many rules, even Jon had to go outside at some point. And this was the first time in weeks Jon actually felt semi-safe about going out. After all, Daisy was with him.

She’d insisted on coming along, still under a pretense of protecting him from threats. Jon certainly wasn’t going to challenge it, though he suspected she had ulterior motives as well. For example, her physical therapy was going great, so she probably could’ve walked through the streets at this point without much assistance. And yet, they were barely a block away from the Institute before Daisy hooked her arm around his. Jon didn’t question her holding his arm, and Daisy made no excuse for her intentions. But that didn’t stop Jon’s face from turning red.

“Are you okay?” Daisy asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m, uh, fine,” Jon said, trying and failing to steady his voice.

Daisy stared at him for another moment before looking ahead. Jon could swear she was smirking.

He was certainly no stranger to Daisy’s touch over the past week, so there should have been no reason he was flustered. But that was in the Archives. There were people out here! Was everyone looking at them? Did they think they were together? Oh god, were they wondering what Daisy was doing with this loser?

Meanwhile, Daisy was having a thrill watching Jon. If just linking arms was making him sweat, she wondered how else he’d react. Which gave her some awful ideas.

“So where to first?” Daisy asked.

“Well, you’ll probably make fun of me for this,” Jon smiled, “but I was thinking we could stop by a bookstore. It would be nice to read something besides statements.”

“Jon, this is a serious question. Do you do anything other than read? I’m trying to imagine you at a football game and even then, you’re holding a book.”

“Well, apparently I used to trespass quite a bit when I was a kid.”

“Oh? Jonathan Sims, breaking and entering?”

“Not like that. But it is a funny story.”

As they walked through the streets, Jonathan told her all about his grandmother’s makeshift solution to keep him from wandering off. Daisy laughed at the idea of throwing a pile of books at a tiny Jon to keep him distracted. It was so simple, yet so him. Of course, Jonathan didn’t tell her that one of those books ended up being a Leitner, but not every part of his past needed to be mentioned.

They chatted and swapped stories, arms still linked together, until they rounded the corner to the bookstore. It was a small shop with a few dozen shelves, but that was perfect for Jon. He took to the aisles like a bee to flowers, stepping in and immediately checking the first book that caught his eye.

It was kinda cute, Daisy thought. Despite how much they’d all changed, Jon was still and probably always would be a huge nerd whose curiosity was greater than his own survival instincts. She looked at some of the books herself, but she’d never been much of a reader. Not as much as Basira at least.

Basira...would she like this place? Did she still like reading? It wasn’t like she was telling Daisy much these days. It seemed like she was keeping everyone at an arm’s length. Or, in Daisy’s case, a leg’s.

She snapped herself out of it. Unlike Jon, Daisy could actually drop a bad train of thought before it got worse. And speaking of him, Daisy could see he’d found a book apparently worth reading. 

Slinking forward silently, Daisy didn’t let Jon know she was there until her arms were around his waist and her chin was on his shoulder. And by that point, there was no escape.

“What’re you reading?” Daisy asked.

Jon stiffened. He wanted to check to see if anyone was watching, but he couldn’t turn his head with Daisy’s cheek touching his. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell her to stop.

“Uhm,” Jon swallowed, “St-strangely enough, it’s a biography on Neil Lagorio! You know, the special effects artist? He was in that last statement with the puppet strings and—”

“Yes, Jon. I was there when you read it.”

“Oh, yes, right,” Jon chuckled. “Well, I was just checking to see if it was a Leitner. Or maybe there was something mentioned in his life that could point to, you know, other supernatural things?”

Daisy looked down at the book. “You know, not everything has to be about work.”

“What, in this economy?”

She snorted. Jon’s eyes went wide.

“What,” Jon grinned, “was that?”

Daisy squeezed him. “Shut up, nerd.”

After they stood there reading for a few minutes, Jon ended up buying the book. Daisy realized he must secretly be a Lagorio fanboy with how much he already knew about him, but there was no way he’d admit to something normal like watching monster movies as a kid. She figured Jon would rather have people believe he was born a 20-something with grey hair.

The thought of Jon as a child but with the same tired face and bags under his eyes made Daisy giggle.

Jon looked up. “What’s so funny?”

Daisy shook her head. “Nothing.”

After they left the bookstore, Daisy had them stop by an ice cream shop, saying it was her turn to choose where they went. Jon was about to argue they’d never made that agreement but realized there was really no arguing with her. Daisy picked out cookie dough, which was of course the only right option. Jonathan, meanwhile…

“What the hell is moose tracks?” Daisy asked.

Jon looked at her in offended shock. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not a flavor. That’s something you look for on a hunt.”

“It is too a flavor! Its vanilla and peanut butter and, uh, fudge I think.”

By this point, the two were walking through a nearby park. The sun shining on the green grass and the wind blowing through the trees painted a scene too idyllic for what their lives deserved. But Jon and Daisy didn’t mind.

“Hmm,” Daisy hummed. “That actually sounds good.”

“Do you want to try it?” Jon offered. As soon as the words left his mouth, his face went pale. Wait, what’d he just say?

Daisy glanced at him, then at the ice cream he still had held out. Before Jon could rethink his offer, she shrugged and leaned down. But she didn’t lick it. Instead, she opened her mouth and took a large chomp out of his scoop.

Daisy stood back up, chewed, and gave Jon a smile. “Not bad.”

Jon was horrified.

He wasn’t sure how they got to where they ended up next. Jon had said something about finding a place to read maybe. The next thing he knew, Daisy had taken his hand and led him to a tree, where they were now sitting together in the shade, leaning against each other with a book in his lap. He realized while he had in fact made the suggestion, Daisy had really just been looking for an excuse. They would have ended up here eventually.

Was this just Jonathan’s lot in life? Pushed and pulled by forces outside of his control, including his own coworker? Although, he supposed they were more than coworkers at this point.

A flash of lightning went through his mind. Wait, what were they to each other? Were they…was this…no…

“Daisy,” Jon found himself uttering, “is this a date?”

The wind stopped. Jonathan felt like the whole world was holding its breath with him. And the longer Daisy sat there in silence with no expression, the more Jon felt he might suffocate. His heart ached with a familiar, poisonous thought. Had he just ruined everything?

Daisy glanced at him, “Is it?”

Jon blinked. “What?”

“Is it a date?”

“I—I asked you!”

“Jon,” She said, looking him in the eyes. “Do you want this to be a date?”

He heard it in her voice. Something she never would have shown to Jon before the coffin.

“I…” Jon finally stuttered. “Y-yes.”

“What?”

“Yes!” He said louder. “I w-would like this to be a date. I think it’d be fun to…date you…Daisy.”

She was staring at him. Why was she just staring at him? Did he say something wrong? Jon realized he was still holding his breath and he wouldn’t be able to for much longer. If he were lucky, maybe his heart would explode before his lungs gave out on him.

Then Daisy smiled. And laughed. And in that moment, whatever breath Jonathan held was taken away.

“Sure,” Daisy said, “Then it’s a date.”

The world started playing again as the wind blew through the leaves. Jon sat back against the tree, his lungs working but his heart still threatening to explode.

“Ah,” Jon nodded, “Good. Good. I’m glad.”

There was a giddiness inside Jon he refused to let spread. So they were dating now. Great. Fantastic. Awesome, even. They sat there together under the tree, moments of silence stretching by as neither really knew what to do next.

Daisy sighed. “Alright, come here.”

“What?”

Daisy reached her hands out to him. Jon pulled back.

“Come on, we’re doing this.” She said.

“Doing what?”

“Just trust me.”

Did he really have a choice? Jon reluctantly obliged and let Daisy take his head in her hands. A jolt of fear went through him. He closed his eyes by instinct. And when he opened them again—

\--Daisy was looking down at him. Jon blinked and realized she’d put his head on her lap.

“Good?” Daisy smiled. “Should be a little more comfortable to read.”

“Uh, uhm, ah,” Jon spluttered. A thought shot through his arms and Jon lifted the book above his face. “Yes, thisisgreatthanksDaisy.”

Jon held the book in a death grip, refusing to move it aside because he knew his face was redder than it had ever been. And as Daisy laughed at him, he pulled the book closer until he could barely read the words.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a strange effect that occurred when two traumatized, uptight, fear-touched persons began a relationship. Somehow, putting this absurd combination together resulted in both of them getting _less_ wound up.

It started small. Jonathan became less twitchy after being forced into a regular sleeping schedule, thanks entirely to Daisy’s insistence. While his nightmarish dreams never changed, at least his mornings were less haunted. Having someone laying there next to him was a luxury Sims didn’t believe he deserved.

(It was totally like Jon to think of it as a one-way transaction. Daisy appreciated him there just as much, though Jon would never believe it.)

The two also pulled each other out of the pits they would dig under their feet. Whenever Jon would get too wrapped up in his own angst and guilt, Daisy would do her best to nip it in the bud. Sometimes it would be taking him out for drinks as a return to some semblance of normalcy. Other times, it’d just be pinching the back of his neck and glaring. It was at those times Jon remembered how intimidating Daisy could be.

Not to say Daisy was immune to her own brand of self-loathing. With her previous purpose ripped away from her, she’d often lapse into staring blankly at the walls, grinding her teeth against nothing where there should have been the throat of a fresh kill. Jon tried his best to take her mind off things, but he was much less adept at it. 

“You know, you could always just chase me again,” Jon said once.

Daisy blinked. “What?”

“Well,” Jon trailed, “you miss hunting monsters, right? I could just run through the tunnels and you could shoot at me with an airsoft pistol.”

There was a frightening moment of silence. And then Daisy laughed. The sound was beautiful, but Jon hoped she knew he was kidding.

Daisy’s strength was returning as well. Her physical therapy was progressing rapidly, and she was soon walking with little support. For the past few weeks, though, she’d had to do it alone. Basira had been out on another trip she’d told no one about. 

Jon had offered to help her in Basira’s place, but that felt wrong to Daisy somehow. She’d said it was because she had been leaning on Jon too much already, both physically and emotionally.

But there was something unspoken there. Something that caused Daisy to grow quiet recently. And it was driving Jon nuts.

“I’m just not sure what to do,” Jon said.

Melanie quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re asking me because…?”

Jon leaned against a shelf in the Institute’s library. He’d caught Melanie here researching and, before he knew it, it had all come tumbling out. 

“Because I am out of friends,” Jon said matter-of-factly. “Martin’s disappeared, Basira’s barely speaking to me, and Daisy certainly isn’t telling me what’s going on.”

Melanie shrugged and reached for another book on the shelf. “Why not ask Helen?”

Jon blinked. “Would she…even know? About these kinds of things?”

A voice behind him said, “You’ve never asked.”

Jonathan jumped. In true fashion, Helen had appeared when he had least expected it. She looked normal enough, and her fingers were a regular size. But as Jon straightened himself up, he couldn’t help glaring at her suspiciously.

“Helen,” Jonathan said.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Doing real good on the mending bridges there, Jon.”

“It’s okay,” Helen said in her alien monotone, glancing from Melanie to Jonathan. “He just thinks of me as a funhouse mirror. A cruel reflection of his own transformation.”

“Okay, stop, stop!” Jonathan waved his hands. “I get it. I’ve been rude. Can you help?”

“With what?”

Jonathan sighed, realizing how ridiculous this was. He was about to ask a reality-bending monster for relationship advice.

“Daisy and I are dating now.”

Melanie snickered. “You weren’t before?”

“What? No. What would make you think that?”

Melanie’s smirk lilted. Jon was dense, but he seemed to always find new ways to show just how dense he was.

“Congratulations,” Helen said, “Are you attracted to women who’ve tried to kill you before?”

Jonathan spared a glance at Melanie. “Thankfully, no.”

“Up yours!” Melanie scoffed.

“Daisy’s been distant,” Jon turned back to Helen. “And it’s all after I asked her out to begin with. We’re usually open about everything. But now I’m wondering if I’ve messed this up somehow.”

As Helen listened, she noticed the growing look of disbelief on Melanie’s face.

“Oh my god, you really don’t know,” Melanie said.

Jon turned, “Don’t know what?”

“Jon, when did you first notice Daisy being distant?”

Jon thought for a moment. “About two days ago?”

“And when did Basira get back from wherever?”

“Around two days ago.”

Melanie stared at him, waiting to see if he put two and two together. It took him a few more moments before his face clicked in understanding.

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed, “You don’t think…well surely not, she…well, there was that whole thing with Elias—”

“—trapping the person Daisy cared about the most in the Institute?” Melanie finished for him. “Jon, you never realized what he meant by that?”

“Well, they were police partners! It made sense.”

Melanie smacked her forehead. “Oh my god.”

“Jon,” Helen cut in, “Melanie believes Daisy’s bisexual.”

“And?”

Jon looked between the two of them. It took another moment for it to click.

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed. “Oh.”

“Your power is to Know things!” Melanie shouted. “How are you so dumb!?”

Jon didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes widened in realization and he rushed off, disappearing out of the library. Helen and Melanie stared at his departure.

“He’s going to do something stupid again,” Helen said, “isn’t he?”

Melanie sighed, “Probably.”

Helen reached for a door that hadn’t been there before. “Want to watch?”

“Oh hell yes.”

 

Basira and Daisy had taken to doing physical therapy in one of the upstairs lecture halls the Magnus Institute provided. At this point, they knew when the hall wouldn’t be used, and the open room provided a relief from the stuffy basement that was the Archives. And yet, even with all the open space, the air felt just as heavy. 

It could have all been in Daisy’s head. After all, it wasn’t like Basira was sharing her thoughts. It was strange because Basira had always been the talker of the two, filling nightly patrols with something she had read or watched recently. But nowadays, her thoughts were always on something else. 

There was a time when Daisy would have relished the feel of Basira’s hands on her leg as she helped her stretch. But her touch was as far away as her gaze. It was clinical, uninterested. 

Daisy wanted to scream. To tell her to stop glancing at her legs in pity before looking away. To tell her she knew she was hiding something. To tell her how she felt about her as if she didn’t already know.

She didn’t. She decided to tell her something else.

“So I listened to the statement about the Everchase again.”

Basira looked up. “Which one was that?”

“The one with the man in the jungle hell. I listened to it again. To see if there was something about the Hunt I could learn. Maybe something I missed the first time.”

“And?”

Daisy tightened her jaw. “There was.”

“What?”  
“You and Jon’s talk.”

Basira paused, still holding Daisy’s leg. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one where you called me dead weight.” 

Her words echoed through the empty lecture hall like the aftershock of a bomb. Basira blinked. She knew the Institute was always recording, but she didn’t count on Daisy actually listening to it. And the things she had said then…the thought made her look up in concern.

“Daisy…”

“Don’t!” Daisy cut her off, “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“What I said—”

“—you meant. I know you. So I just wanted to say you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“Daisy,” Basira muttered, “What do you mean?”

The door burst open. Daisy and Basira whipped out their pistols.

Jon yelped and jumped back. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”

Oh. The two rolled their eyes and holstered their guns. That man was gonna get himself shot one day. 

“What, Jon?” Basira said.

“I, uhm, I…” His eyes darted between Basira and Daisy. It didn’t help him that Daisy had her leg stretched across Basira’s shoulders. Wow, she was flexibl—

“I just wanted to talk to Daisy!” He interrupted his own thoughts. “But I see you’re in the middle of something so I’ll just be on my way.”

“We were actually done,” Daisy said as she lifted her leg off Basira. She planted her feet and stood, refusing to use anything to help her up. It was twitchy and unglamorous, but she did it.

And then, with each step filled with purpose, Daisy walked over to Jon, grabbed him by the shirt, and kissed him.

The kiss was rough and lopsided. Jon flailed in Daisy’s grip. But after a moment, she let him go and walked out of the room, leaving only stunned silence behind her.

Jon tried to catch his breath, his heart racing as his mind threatened to shut down. He was vaguely aware of Basira standing up behind him.

“Jon,” Basira said, “What the fuck was that?”

“I-I-I-“ Jon babbled, “I think that was our first kiss?”


	7. Chapter 7

Being in the same room as Peter Lukas was like if the pins & needles feeling in your leg suddenly extended to the air around you. Martin wasn’t entirely sure if Peter had that effect in every room, or if it was just a side effect of someone who’s power was to be alone and unobserved standing in an institute made specifically for watching people.

Whatever the case, it made Martin uncomfortable.

“Hello Peter,” Martin said, his words weary with disdain.

“Hello Martin!” Peter said cheerfully. “And what has my employee been up to today?”

“Doing your paperwork and recording statements, as usual.”

“Sounds dreadfully dull,” Peter said. “But I suppose that is what I’m paying you for.”

Martin blinked. “Wait, are you pay—”

“Not important,” Peter waved it off. “What’s important is what else you’ve been up to.”

Martin turned to the tapes on his desk. “Well, I’ve been looking through the Archives for more mentions of The Extinction. But so far, I haven’t had any luck.”

“Oh, I don’t mean that. But good on you for the initiative!”

Something was off. Peter was a man who’d talk about brutal murder in the same nonchalant tone as what he’d had for lunch, but he was rarely in such good spirits. Martin’s eyes shifted as he tried to recall what else he had done. And then he remembered.

Martin glanced back at Peter. Lukas’s eyes were half-lidded but his smile was ear-to-ear. Martin glared.

“I thought you weren’t interested in the ‘soap opera’.”

“Oh, I wasn’t!” Peter chuckled. “But after eavesdropping for so long, I couldn’t help but get invested. And your scuffle in the break room a few days ago was entertaining.”

Martin scoffed and turned back to his desk. “I have work to do. I don’t have time to get into it.”

“Maybe so. But as your current employer, I feel like it’s my responsibility to respond when coworkers get into a fight on company property.”

“Can you get to the point?!” Martin snapped. “So I threw a punch at Daisy and she threw me on a table. Cut my paycheck or…or give me a demerit, I don’t care.”

“Martin,” Peter tsked. “I’m not here to punish you. If anything, I’m here to congratulate you!”

Peter walked to the front of Martin’s desk, back into his line of sight. Reluctantly, Martin glanced up.

“You’re distancing yourself from the toxic people in your life and standing up when they get in your face,” Peter said. “It’s exactly what you need to be doing for what’s coming next. Even if the end result wasn’t as dignified as you’d have wanted it to be.”

“Yes, yes, all my friends are jerks and I need to be more alone. Mission accomplished.”

Peter glanced at Martin. If the man was capable of any sort of empathy, the shift of his jaw might have been mistaken for pity.

“Hmm. Quite.” Peter said. “But! I’ve also come to present you with a golden opportunity.”

Martin scrunched his eyes closed. Here we go.

“I’m listening, I suppose?” 

“You didn’t throw a punch at a murderer because she violated your personal space,” Peter continued, “You hit her because she laid claim to your Grubby Jesus. Jonathan, right?”

Martin opened his mouth to interject, but realized the more he said, the longer Peter would be in his office. He grit his teeth instead. Let him finish. Let him finish…

“I’ll be blunt,” Peter said. “If you want the Archivist, I can help you have him.”

A pen snapped in Martin’s hand. Peter glanced at his fist, now covered in ink that threatened to drip onto the carpet. He quirked an eyebrow.

“You are quite new to this whole anger thing, aren’t you?”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said,” Martin shot to his feet, “Get! Out!”

Peter blinked. He knew this was a messy topic. But the way Martin’s eyes now shone with angry tears made him realize he struck a nerve.

But he didn’t step back. Instead, Peter cleared his throat.

“Hear me out.”

“No!”

“Listen,” Peter pressed on. “Do you truly think Jonathan is safe with her?”

The rage that twisted Martin’s face twitched, then cracked, and finally, shattered. Martin took his eyes off Peter to stare at his desk, lips moving in mumbled thought.

Poor bastard. He was so desperate for connection, he wore his feelings like a billboard. Fat lot of good that had done for him. 

“Let me answer that for you,” Peter said, “The way you said it, the Hunter had the Archivist by the throat multiple times. And now she’s tightening a leash instead of a noose. But how long do you think it’ll be before she yanks too hard and breaks the poor sod’s neck?”

“Daisy wouldn’t do that,” Martin replied, not looking Peter in the eye.

“Wouldn’t she?” Peter said, “It looked like she wouldn’t hesitate to break your arm.”

Martin instinctively reached for his shoulder. He glanced up at Peter, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Why do you care?” Martin asked. “This just makes me more alone, doesn’t it?”

“It does! But it also makes you near bloody useless if you let it hang you up. And what we’re facing, Martin, is far more important than workplace love-life squabbles.”

Martin sat back in his seat, “Fine. I’ll try to keep my mind off of it. Can you go now?”

Peter smiled like a parent to a stubborn child. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Martin. Do you mind if I get a little personal with you?”

“If it will get you to leave sooner, sure.”

“I’m hurt,” Peter said. “But also, I understand. Even though I’m an avatar of Forsaken—the Lonely, as you call it--I understand the need for connection. I’m a part of the Lukas 'Family' after all.”

Martin’s eyes widened in growing horror.

“Please don’t tell me about your sex life.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Peter chuckled. “No need to hear that from your boss. But what you do need to hear is that I understand. And if you want to keep the Archivist all to yourself, well, who am I to stop you?”

There it was. Peter saw beneath the horror, the disgust, and the anger that played on Martin’s face, there was thought. And that meant there was an opening.

Peter leaned on Martin’s desk. “The way I see it, you have two options. Option one is to trap this Daisy woman. Make her disappear into a world where she can’t hurt another living soul. After her stint in the coffin, she might even be used to it.”

Peter quirked his head. “And thanks to our special arrangement, I could even show you how to do it.”

Quiet. Far too much for a man who wasn’t thinking about it.

“N-no,” Martin finally squeaked. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Suit yourself,” Peter shrugged. “But there is another option.”

He waited. Martin could tell him to leave. Summon up that anger he had before and escort him out. But he didn’t. Instead Martin sat there, transfixed by the possibilities that were opening to him.

This was far too easy. Peter could see why Elias had so much fun with his mind games.

“The second option is to lock Jonathan up,” Peter revealed. “Not in a way that’ll keep him from his work. Just enough to keep him from any distractions. Let him out every now and then if he needs to save the world, then bring him back in so you can keep him safe. From my understanding, he spent most of his time alone in the Archives anyway. I bet he wouldn’t even notice.”

“I…” Martin shook. “I c-couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t you?” Peter asked. “Martin, it would be easy! As simple as touching his office door. You could even walk in and out whenever you’d like.”

“Jonathan isn’t a dog!” Martin cut in, “I’m not going to just—just keep him locked in a room for my own amusement!”

“So you’d leave him in the hands of a murderess instead?”

For once, Martin didn’t have a response. He looked wounded. Like he’d been stabbed in the gut, then looked down to see he was holding the blade that did it. 

Peter tapped on his desk and stood up, “I’ll leave you alone to think about it. But Martin? Do try to think about it.”

Adjusting his scarf, Peter walked out of the room to even god doesn’t know where. 

The pins & needles that suffocated the room had left with him. But now the air was filled with a heavier, much more dreadful feeling. And only Martin was alone to bear it all.


	8. Chapter 8

It was ironic that Jonathan was the one hunting Daisy down instead of the other way. Daisy had used top-rate detective work to find Jon back when she was hunting him. But in this instance, in order to find Daisy, Jon simply had to look where Basira would never be.

So of course, he found Daisy in his bedroom.

“Would you mind telling me what the hell that was all about?” Jon said as he stomped through the door.

Daisy was sitting on the bed with her head hung low. But as she raised it up, Jon saw tears falling from eyes hot with rage. He realized he’d spoken too soon.

“It was something I needed to do,” Daisy said.

“And that was--”

“Drop it, Jon.”

Maybe a year ago, Jon might have backed off. But after facing all that he had, Jon had developed a dangerous degree of stubbornness. 

“No.”

Daisy glared at him. “What?”

“No, Daisy,” Jon said, taking a fearful step forward. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jon scoffed, “You grabbed and kissed me before storming out of the room! In front of Basira!”

Daisy rose to her feet and moved to walk out of the room. Jon stepped in front of her. She glared down at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jon.” 

“Oh, so now you get to keep secrets?” Jon said, “Because when I don’t tell you about the time I murdered someone, it’s a betrayal of trust. But when I want to know why you involved me in some petty act, suddenly I’m crossing a line?!”

“Jon,” Daisy growled, “Move.”

They glared into each other’s eyes. Jon’s stomach churned as he struggled not to look away from the gaze of a hardened killer and the eyes of a loved one in pain. He hated everything about this moment. Especially for what he was about to do next.

He felt the power wrap around his tongue like a thin film of static. It laced his words as he spoke.

“Daisy,” Jon compelled, “are you going to hurt me if I don’t move?”

The words came out of her mouth as casually a lunch order. “No. I don’t want to hurt you. I mean, not without your consent.”

Daisy blinked. Jon’s face turned red.

“What?” Jon said.

Daisy glared, “Did you just…compel me?”

“Hold on a moment, I’m sorry,” Jon waved, “Not without my consent? What does that mean?”

Daisy put a hand to her eyes. “Jon…”

“Do you think I’m a masochist?”

“Jon. Don’t think too much about it.”

“Or are you…oh my god, that would make so much sense.”

“Jon!”

Jon startled and shut up. Daisy let out a heavy, growling sigh. She didn’t like yelling at him, but it was the only way to keep him from going on another tangent. 

“Don’t do that to me,” Daisy finally said. “The ‘make me tell the truth’ thing.”

“Then tell me the truth yourself,” Jon said, “What’s wrong?”

Daisy’s shoulders dropped. Fine.

“I…listened to the tape. When you and Basira were talking about me.”

Jon’s red face slowly turned pale. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said, “This might come as a surprise, but I have feelings too. And when Basira said that about me…it hurt.”

“Look, you know Basira—”

“Still cares about me? Yeah, I get that. Like you’d care for a sick puppy or an aunt with dementia. But I don’t need her pity. I can’t stand it.”

Jon wasn’t sure what to say to that. Far be it for him to vouch for Basira’s personal feelings, or for anyone’s for that matter. He wasn’t sure if he could say anything.

The two stared at each other in silence. When the moment passed, Daisy shook her head and began walking out of the room. But before she could leave, Jon grabbed her arm.

“Daisy,” He said, “Why me?”

“What?”

“You were partners with Basira for years. And you hated me! Yet we’re the ones…dating.” It was hard for Jon to say that last word because he could barely believe it himself. “Why? Am I just a rebound or something?”

Daisy stood stock still, staring into Jon’s eyes. Unmoving, unblinking. Jon wondered if he’d made a mistake or offended her in some way. His anxiety echoed and built and he was just about to drop the subject when she spoke.

“No. You’re the only one who looks at me the same way as before.”

Jon blinked. “What?”

Daisy gently put her hands on his shoulders. “After the coffin, no one looked at me the same. I’m just a victim to Basira and a wounded dog to everyone else. But you…you’re still scared of me.”

Jon’s shoulders tensed up. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daisy smirked, her hands squeezing at Jon’s offended muscles. “Relax. I’m only saying you still see me as me. Even if I’ve changed. And no matter how much you mope about turning into a scary monster, I still see you as you. As the adorable, scared idiot who dives headfirst into hell to help people.”

Jonathan frowned, but there was no use hiding the blush that returned to his cheeks. He looked away and mumbled, “You didn’t have to call me an idiot there.”

Daisy laughed and threw him into a hug. “Maybe. But you’re my idiot.”

His heart threatened to pound its way out his chest. He was back at that first night, when Daisy wrapped her arms around him in bed. And just like that night, Jon’s entire body tensed up before slowly, slowly relaxing. Only this time, Jon was able to return the favor as he wrapped his arms around Daisy’s waist and squeezed.

It was nice. Soft. Gentle. Quite the opposite from the harsh, sudden kiss they had in the lecture hall.

Jonathan blinked as that moment came to mind. Right. Basira. Reluctantly, Jon pulled away from Daisy’s embrace.

“Thank you, Daisy,” Jon sighed. “But you should talk to Basira as well.”

Daisy frowned. “Maybe you’re right. Where is she anyway?”

“Well,” Jon hated what he was about to say, “After you kissed me and stormed out, she was confused and angry. Justifiably so. I tried to explain to her about us, but she wouldn’t believe most of it.”

“Did she think we were playing a prank?”

“To be fair, even I’m still trying to wrap my head around us. Then she, uhm, left.”

“Left?”

“Yes. She said she had somewhere to be and then…left. She’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Daisy looked at the wall in thought. While she wasn’t in on Basira’s investigations these days, she did know how Basira thought.

“She wouldn’t have left this alone unless she needed to be somewhere important,” Daisy surmised, “Or time-sensitive.”

“We could always wait for her to come back.”

Daisy shook her head. “That could be in hours or weeks. I want to get this over with. Where is she?”

“I don’t know!”

“But you could know.”

Jonathan protested in scoffed noises. Daisy didn’t waver.

“Fine,” Jon sighed in defeat. “But I can’t promise anything.”

Jon put his fingers to his forehead and closed his eyes. Daisy watched as his hair lifted slightly, like he’d touched a balloon covered in static. He stood like that for a moment like he was trying to recall an early memory before his eyes shot open in shock.

“We have to go,” Jon said.

“What?” Daisy tensed.

“We have to go now!”

Jon grabbed her arm and rushed out of the room.

“Where?” Daisy said.

“The park!”


End file.
